Adorkable
by LinnyLibrarian
Summary: REID/OC "He's finally playing with kids his own age." The Team's working a case involving the murders of college students, and Reid soon finds himself attracted to a potential victim.  11 short chapters of Reid finally getting someone who understands him
1. Chapter 1

**Adorkable**_ - what my friends and I all refer to Reid as. _

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

The dorm's main sitting area was filled with chattering, nervous, scared and otherwise freaked out, female college students. The BAU team, consisting of Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner AKA Hotch, SSA Emily Prentiss, SSA Dr. Spencer Reid, SSA Derek Morgan, and media liaison, Jennifer Jareau AKA JJ, were all standing to one side of the room. Morgan and Prentiss were having a whispered conversation, while Hotch and Reid, hammered out last minute details. JJ was waiting on the college's dean to give the okay to begin.

Appearing with the last few students, Martin Hooley, a black man of about fifty-five, hurried forward. He nodded to JJ and took one of the empty seats near the front.

JJ nodded back and turned her attention to the students. "As you all now know, there is a killer among us on this campus. We, as the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, more commonly known as BAU, are here to stop this killer. Now, Agent Hotchner and Dr. Reid, have some things to tell you all." She stepped back, giving the young brunette behind her a playful tap on the arm. "Go for it, Genius." She offered a wink.

With a nod from Hotch, Dr. Spencer Reid, twenty-six year old, genius, stepped forward, awkwardly. He hated public speaking and the fact that everyone here to listen to him was female, didn't help one bit. Normally he did well with law enforcement but this wasn't the same. Not by a long shot. He cleared his throat. Nervously, he tucked his light brown, collar-length hair behind his ear. "Um, Hello. I'm Dr. Spencer Reid. I work with the BAU…obviously." He paused to collect himself, and heard Hotch behind him whisper, "Victimology."

Nodding, Reid began again. "The BAU profiles not only the unsub, which stands of unidentified suspect, but the victims. Killers, such as this one, selected their victims for a reason and with great care." He licked his lips, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "We believe, based on the previous killings, the ideal victim for this unsub is a long-haired brunette female, in her early twenties, who is under 5'5" in height."

A tall brunette sitting in the middle of the group raised her hand.

Reid nodded, pointing, "Yes?" His voice squeaked ever so slightly.

"How can you be so sure about who he chooses as his victims? Like their height?" She sounded scared and disbelieving.

"Well, it actually simple," Reid began, confident about the science, at least. "All of the victims have been long haired brunettes in their early twenties. This unsub has a fascination with this type of victim. He won't deviate from the pattern."

The young woman nodded, but asked, "But height?"

Reid was beginning to feel nauseous from the attention and the team could see it. Hotch stepped forward, taking the pressure off Reid. "All three woman were under 5'5" and the killer used an arm around the neck to control the victim while he subdued, raped, and murdered them. Most likely, the victim is too short to go after a woman any taller than 5'5". This may because he is short himself, or is handicapped in some way, forcing him to choose an easier target."

The question and answer section went only for short while longer before the woman were released to their rooms, under the measure of a curfew that hit at night fall. Which, as one could see from the pitch black outside the windows, had been sometime during the talk.

The room had nearly emptied of students, save a young woman, Isabelle 'Belle' Laurent, perfectly matching the victim's description. She was waiting patiently for one of the agents to notice her, but the dean noticed first. "What is it Isabelle?"

"I just had a…silly question, I guess," she clutched a textbook and notebook to her chest. "May I stay out here a study for a while? I'm not gonna be able to sleep tonight."

The dean looked over at the agent's who were all currently staking claims at different tables. It was Hotch that noticed them watching and called, "Yes?"

"Would it be too much trouble for her to work out here tonight?" Hooley moved closer to Hotch, leaving Belle just far enough behind to not be able to make out the whispered conversation between the two. "Isabelle was Anna Morgan's roommate. Understandably, she doesn't want to stay in her dorm right now."

Hotch nodded, looking around at his team. They had taken up most of the tables but the one closest to the hall leading to the dorm rooms of this floor was Reid. "Reid, could you make a place for her at your table?"

Reid, who had five files lay out on the table, looked up. "Um…" he pulled the papers together hurriedly, making a space.

Hotch nodded Belle over, and she sat down nervous. In fact, they both approached each other with the same nervous and sheepish attitude.

"I'm sorry to invade you, Dr. Reid," she whispered, as she opened her textbook and laid out her notebook to a clean page.

Flustered by her attention, he managed a nod.

"I'm Isabelle Laurent," she offered, hoping for some response.

"Dr. Spencer Reid," he responded.

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><p><em>This story will be rather short - only like 11 chapters - but I am working on making it longer. If I manage to finish it in entirity I'll add onto this story, otherwise, I am going to leave it as the standalone 11 chapters. It's not my best work, and lacks the fullness I would like but it's cute and I think Reid deserves any love he can get. <em>


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Spencer Reid." Fueled by nerves just as Reid, Belle continued to ramble. "I would be out of your hair if I could just take a warm shower."

"Why can't you take a shower?" Reid asked, genuinely curious.

Belle fidgeted slightly. "Well, the showers are all on the ground floor and the doors to the ground floor are never locked. There are bathrooms on every floor but showers are only on the ground floor. Basically the excuse is it's not safe. I doubt he'd try to attack us in the dorm, he's never attacked anywhere that close before." She paused a second before continuing, "Since these murders have happened, I've been so wound up and scared. During the day I'm running trying to stay on top of everything and then at night I have so much weighting on me." It was then she realized she was being unnecessarily long-winded, blushed and fell silent.

For about a half hour Reid continued his profile of the victims. Everything was concurrent so far but something didn't sit right. He couldn't put his finger on it and it was gnawing at him.

Giving up for a while, Reid rose and moved over to his boss, who was buried in his own files. "I've done as much as I can...for now anyway," Reid began, "And the girl," he gestured to Belle, who was now busy note-taking, "wants to take a shower. She's wound pretty tight. I could watch over her. We wouldn't be gone more than a half hour."

Morgan, who was directly behind Hotch, turned, with a smirk on his face. In a stage whisper, he said, "Let the kid go. He's finally playing with kids his own age."

Shaking his head at Morgan, a near invisible smirk tugging on the corner of his mouth, Hotch nodded. "Stay sharp, Reid."

Moving quickly, with Reid crossed back to Belle. Kneeling beside her, he explained the arrangement. She stood quickly, gathering her things and led the way to her dorm room to collect her shower bag.

He waited, like a gentleman, on the threshold of her room, as she scrambled about pulling together clothes. While he waited, his profiling sense tuned, he scanned the room. There were two beds and two desks. Belle's side was perfectly neat and tidy, set to shades of deep purple and black. Everything had it place and not one thing was out of order. The roommate was the exact opposite, things were everywhere. The bed was unmade, unlike Belle's, and the desk was a nightmare of papers, books, files, notes, even a few clothing items. The closet was open and clothes were put in haphazardly and a layer of, what Reid assumed were, dirty clothes were intermixed with innumerous pairs of shoes.

Belle opened her closet, drawing Reid attention. He dared to take a step farther in the room to look inside. Just as he'd expected, even her closet was organized; first by type of clothing, then by color. Even the colors were in order of the light spectrum. A tall, square, black laundry basket was placed just instead the closet and next to it, ordered neatly into rows, were five pairs of shoes. One pair of purple and black tennis shoes, one pair of black four inch heels, one pair of black flats, one pair of black flip-flops, and one pair of black knee-high, high-heeled boots.

It was amazing to Reid how polar opposite the roommates were. He wondered if they got along. "Where's your roommate?" Reid asked, trying to make conversation. He was bad at small talk but she seemed like she need distracting.

Having just pulled black sweatpants and a purple cami from her closet, she froze. "She was the second victim. Anna Morgan."

Reid felt suddenly sick. Wanting to make polite conversation, he'd blown it. Tears were shining in Belle's eyes. "I'm very sorry, Isabelle." The use of her name seemed to affect her, but he couldn't decide if it was in good or bad way.

Holding the clothes to her chest, she looked at him. "Why? Why is he doing this?" The dam within her broke and she began to sob. Curling inward, she wrapped herself into a hug, tucking her head down. Her long, mildly, wavy hair shielded her from his gaze.

Pushing aside his inner thoughts that told him not to touch a possible victim, to keep a distance, Reid moved to her, pulling her into his arms. She needed comfort and he had to offer what he could.

At 6'1", 140 pounds, he was all height and sharp angles. He was just too thin to look "normal". But Belle felt different, so petite and thin herself, it seemed perfect, even with her head only coming to mid-torso. Her hands wrapped tightly around his waist, and she clung to him like her only lifeline.

For a long moment, they just stood like that. His arms pressed her closer, hands on her lower back; his thumbs moving in a pattern he hoped was soothing. She squeezed him tightly, holding onto him as if it were sudden death should she let go. She didn't even mind his sidearm pressed into her side. He knew she'd lost her roommate, who was obvious a close friend, so her response was somewhat understandable.

"I should take my shower," she whispered against his chest, her breath cause strange chills over his skin.

He refused to let his mind think too long on that. "Yeah," he replied, instantly mentally kicking himself. _Genius, slick_.

As if reading his mind, she chuckled, letting her hands slide from behind him across his sides, as she pulled away. "You have a way with words, Dr. Reid."

"You may call me Spencer...if you like." He said, flustered. He was use to everyone calling him doctor but for some reason, he wanted her to be different. Again, he refused to think on that for long. "Why don't you lead the way?"

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><p><em>*high pitched, childish, girl-in-love voice* I love Reid. He makes me giggle. *SMILE* I want one...him or a Hotch (who cares about a 27 year ago difference *laughs*). Either one works. *laughs* <em>


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Chuckling she grabbed her towel and shower bag, before walking them farther down the hall, into the stairwell. They continued down to the ground floor and to the shower room. Reid stopped her at the door. "Stay behind me, while I check that it's clear."

"You really think the killer is gonna be waiting in the shower rooms for someone to come down? We _are_ under lockdown." Belle followed behind Reid as he checked the bathroom. It took him all of thirty seconds to clear it.

"The men on campus don't know that women aren't allowed to use the showers at night. They might lie in wait anywhere." He turned to face her, putting his gun back into his hip holster. "I'm gonna wait outside."

"Wait," she caught his arm just as he began to turn. "Please, you can sit over by the counter. You can't see me in the shower from there." Belle nibbled her lip. To herself more than Reid, she muttered, "I hate being needy." Louder, she said, looking at him. "Look, I'm scared. I've always been able to take care of myself and I can't now."

Reid nodded. "Alright," his voice was a tad squeaky, even to his own ears. Seeing a deadbolt on the door, he walked over and flipped it before leaning against the counter.

Belle took her things and disappeared to the farthest shower.

He heard the water kick on, as he leaned his head back, resting his eyes. The plane ride from Virginia to this college town, in northern California, had been long. They'd managed the flight in just under eight hours but it was still forever for the team.

Suddenly Belle yelped, causing him to snap forward. "Isabelle?"

"Belle," she called, laughing. "Sorry, the water was just colder than I expected."

Lacking a better plan, Reid slipped onto the counter and rested his head back on the mirror. It had been five hours since they arrived on scene and they had a partial profile of the killer. Reid began running through the profile and evidence in his head. Male in his mid to late twenties, targeting woman around his age, but slightly younger. He was some able to blend in with everyone, not easy noticed. He seemed uncontrolled and sloppy given he used surprise attacks on his victims but he brought his own tools (weapons and restrains) and toyed with the victims for a short while before he killed them. He was confident but probably a shorter man, incapable of controlling an average to tall woman, so he always targeted woman he can easy manage. While he always attacks, rapes, and kills the victim on location, every detail is planned. He has detailed knowledge of the campus, suggesting he may not be an undergrad but someone well on their way to a degree. He was almost certainly a student, given his knowledge and his age. He kills with a knife, in a vicious pattern, suggesting he feels he needs to punish his victims for something. They're all attractive brunettes but whether it was specific brunette the unsub was after or whether this just happened to be his preference was yet unknown and that bothered Reid.

Something flashed in his mind, something in the transcripts of the victims. "Intelligent!" he yelled, suddenly. "He's not selecting a type. He's going after a specific girl."

Belle, who had finished her shower and dressed while he was thinking, appeared, water dripping from her long hair. "What?"

"We have to talk to the team." He grabbed her hand and dragged her back upstairs to the main dorm lounge.

The team was still spread out over the few tables, each with papers and files everywhere. They all looked up when Reid came running in, dragging Belle behind him, and cried, "I know how he selects his victims!"

"I thought we already had that much," Morgan said, glancing at the others.

"No, no!" Reid said, waving his free hand as if clearing the air. "We thought he was selecting his victims because they were his preference, which is partially right. But, I think, in his mind, he's raping and killing the same woman over and over again."

"Which woman, Reid?" Hotch asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Isabelle," Reid said, before glancing at the girl next to him. "I think he's killing women that he sees as you, Belle. He's working his way to you."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Belle stared at him in horror. "What? Wha-what do you mean? How do you know it's me?"

"You're a perfect match for his victims, and you gave me the last clue." She stared at him confused until he supplied, "Intelligence. I was looking over the class schedules and transcripts earlier. All of the victims were 3.75 GPA's or higher." He turned back to the team. "Have Garcia run all the female student on campus against our victim's profile with the added filter of GPA, but I'm telling you, she's his target."

JJ shook her head but made the call.

Hotch looked at Reid. "What's the motive?"

"Ah, guys," JJ said, looking over at them. She hit the speakerphone on her cell.

"Hey, kiddies," Penelope Garcia's voice said, distorted somewhat over the line. "I just ran the student body against characteristics and…you may have to face the possibly that boy genius is right, yet again. The only person, who fits that description, and is not already dead, is one Isabelle Laurent."

All head swiveled to Belle, who was standing wide eyed, her hand covering her mouth. "But, why me?"

"Have you dated anyone on campus?" JJ asked, closing her phone. "Broken up with anyone recently?"

"No," Belle shook her head. "I'm double majoring in literature and music; I don't have time for stupid college boys."

Morgan added, "Did anyone pursue you? Ask you out? Try to be extra friendly? Show they liked you without saying it? Anything like that?"

Belle shrugged, beginning to pace. "A few guys, I guess. But none of them took my rejection that hard. They're all happily dating someone else, as far as I know."

"It could be intimacy seeking starker," Reid offered, helping Belle sit down at the nearest table, though she didn't seem to want to let go of his hand. "It could have started with him obsessing about her and devolved into a rejection stalker. He's killing all the women who remind him of her, before he gets to her."

"Does this mean I'm next?" Belle asked, her voice shaking ever so slightly.

No one spoke but their silence was deafening.

Suddenly, Belle shot up and moved across the room. In the far corner was a keyboard. It was one of the cheap ones that didn't really sound that much like a real piano, especially to a trained ear, but she sat down and turned it on anyway. She was playing rapidly before anyone had a real chance to register.

"Coping mechanism," Reid whispered, as he passed the team to sit as close as he dared to Belle.

The team called the dean and began rerunning everyone on campus again, comparing them all to the unsub's profile. They knew his target. Now, they just needed him.

Thirty minutes later, after a long time in silence, expect for Belle's frantic playing, JJ leaned over to the others. "What are we gonna do? Even knowing the target, we have no way of knowing who the unsub is. We need more information."

"Or to catch him in the act," Emily offered.

"He's the jealous type, right. Like the really jealous type," Belle said, slowly, only loud enough for Reid to hear.

He leaned forward some. "Yeah, the unsub sees himself in your life. Probably playing this big romantic role to you. But you never saw him like that so he took that as your rejection."

"So, if he saw me with someone else," she began.

"He would be forced to respond, in some way," Reid finished slowly. Only then did he notice the sudden silence, she had stopped playing.

She turned to face him. "I have an idea."

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><p><em>I'm going out of town so I won't be home (or around Interwebs) on Tueday so y'all get this chapter one day early. I will be home in time to update on Thursday. <em>


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Classes ran the following day as if nothing had changed. Belle was sitting in the center of the quad reading, the sun shining brightly overhead. Students moved about the campus, cautiously, but still busy and stressed like any other campus.

"I can't do this," Reid groaned, as JJ and Emily both looked at him.

"Yes, you can," Morgan said. "You go sit by her. Just follow her lead, she knows what's going on."

Hotch appeared. "Ready?"

Reid gulped. "Ready."

They sent him out from the shaded walkway towards Belle. She looked up as he approached smiling.

"You don't think she did this just to spend time with Reid, do you?" Emily asked, as they watched.

"No, I'm pretty sure she wants this guy just a bad as we do," Hotch offered.

"She wants Reid too." JJ offered, with a smile.

"So now what?" Morgan asked, changing the conversation's direction. "We just wait?"

"The unsub will have to act, when he sees them together," Hotch said, leaded the team away. "In his mind, she belongs with him. He won't be able to stop himself."

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><p>"Hey," Belle smiled up at him, shading her eyes with a hand so she could look up at him.<p>

"Can-can I sit with you?" Reid asked, sounding unsure.

She laughed softly, patting the stop next to her. "No need to be shy, Spencer. Really, I don't bite."

"Biting is not what worries me," he said, sitting down next to her. He took his bag off, setting it next to him on the far side. His long legs were stretched out in front of him and he rolled his feet back and forth nervously.

Belle picked up one of her text books. "Oh, and what worries you, Dr. Reid?"

Avoiding the question, Reid looked at the book in her hand. "Can I see that?" It was an anthology of western literature. He scanned the table of contents. "Some of these are really good."

"Yeah," she smiled. "It's required for one of my English credits. My favorite so far was_ Tartuffe_ by Molière."

"Really?" He turned the book over in his hands. "Why?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I guess, because I love his use of satire. Sarcasm really. Like," She took the book, but leaning into him so he could read too. "Act I, Scene 1: Madame Prenelle: 'but you know what they say about still waters. I pity parents with secretive daughters. '" Belle shrugged, lifting her head to look over her shoulder at him. "I was a secretive daughter so I guess it speaks to me."

"You used past tense," he pointed out.

She nodded. "Yeah, my parents died my senior year. Fire took them in their sleep, while I spent the night with some friends."

He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry."

Belle smiled sadly, looking down at the book. "The insurance paid a massive settlement on the house. Both my parents had life insurance too so…I was well taken care of. They had a hefty trust fund that hit on my twenty-first birthday. It paid off my loans from my first two years in college and paid for this last one." She leaned into him more, resting her head over his heart. He didn't seem to mind so she continued.

"I sold their cars and put most of the money into savings. I don't have pay any rent or anything, since my room and board is part of my tuition here."

"You don't have a home to return to," he said.

Belle shook her head. "No, the house was destroyed and I kept the money instead of rebuilding or buying a new one."

"What did your parents do?" Reid asked, trying to keep up small talk.

She sighed, turning. "Lay back."

"What? Why?"

"Just do it, will you?" She pushed him back, putting her sweatshirt under his head. Once he was flat, she curled against his side, resting her head on his chest again. Her left hand, which she had rested on his stomach, was playing with the buttons of his shirt. "My dad was a police officer in Michigan, where I was born," she continued, once she was settled. "Mom was a college professor at U of M."

The small talk continued for quite some time with them lying there in the grass like that. His left hand snaked around her waist at one point and started to gently stroke her side, while her fingers continued to mess with the buttons of his over shirt. Neither seemed to notice their movements as the topics ranged far and wide. They talked about anything and everything they could think of.

Reid was honest with her about a lot of things, even the trauma he faced in school as a genius child prodigy; even about his father leaving and his mother raising him alone. The only parts of himself he didn't talk about was his mother's illness and his former drug problem. It was the only part of him he was still afraid of. He even talked about a few times he'd been kidnapped, tortured (though he left out as much detail as he could); about his job and his lack of a social life. About his schooling and about his pastimes, which were few and far between.

Belle talked about her family in detail. Her mother had been a music professor, and a classical violinist. Her father, former marine turned police officer with a passion for piano, and reading. The two had met when she was still a student and he was fresh off active duty. It was love at first sight, or so the story went. They never had any other kids but Isabelle. Then Belle talked about her schooling, her limited life experiences. She talked about how she wanted to be an editor at a publishing company. She didn't leave anything out about herself. She talked about her pastimes, which were only somewhat less restricted then Reid's.

The two kept talking until she glanced at her watch and saw she had ten minutes to make it across campus to her afternoon music class. She sat up, smiling down at him. "I had fun, Spencer."

"Me too," he said, genuinely.

Pausing, she lowered her head a placed a chaste kiss on his lips. His hand pressed into her lower back, a clear sign that he didn't mind in the least.

"I'll see you later?" she asked, when she pulled away.

He nodded, his cheeks a tinge pink.

Collecting her things, she rushed off across the grounds. It was still light, which was his sole excuse for not chasing after her. Reid shook his head, and headed off to find the rest of his team.

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><p><em>I hope everyone can forgive me for updating late. I know I said I would update everything by Thursday at the latest but life got away from. Got home later than I expected Wednesday. Went out with mom and just too turned to be do it Wednesday by the time I got home. Thursday I spent the day papering the town with applications and resumes as I am kinda-sorta unemployed at the moment. By the time I got home it was almost midnight and I was just too damned tired to bring myself to attempt checking over the chapters for posting. Anyways, forgive me. I'll get back to regular updates now. <em>


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

That evening, just after dark, Belle was leaving the music building. She spent the last few hours after her class, practicing for her finals which were in two weeks.

The last phase of the plan was to lure the killer out. Her job was to walk from the music building to her dorm, and look vulnerable.

The grounds were dark and it was a mile from the music building to the woman's dorm; so her part wasn't too hard. Her violin case in her left hand, backpack slung over one shoulder, Belle started across the grounds. She tried to keep her eyes open, wanting to see this guy before he got too close.

Belle's entire body was shaking after only a short distance, and it wasn't from cold. Her chest was tight and she grabbed in her purse for her inhaler. She could feel someone watching her. She tried to blame it on the FBI, who were supposed to be everywhere, but she knew it wasn't them. Shaking the inhaler, she sped up her pace. Her asthma acted up sometimes, when she was scared or stressed. The last really bad attack was after her parents had died.

As she rounded a massive tree, raising the inhaler to her mouth, something hard hit her head with a dull thwack. She let out a slightly groan as she crumpled, but she was unconscious before he picked her and her belongs up and slipped back into the darkness.

* * *

><p>The world was spinning when she came too. She was propped up against a wall. No, she amend, just before she opened her eyes. It was too warm to be a wall.<p>

"Spencer?" She gasped, seeing that she was in fact leaned against the unconscious form of Spencer Reid. Her hands were bound but she was able to raise them enough to take his chin in her hands. She gave him a gently shake. "Come on, Spencer. Wake up." She looked around, realizing they were in a shed, probably the lawn keepers shed based on the materials. "Damnit, Dr. Reid. Wake up!" She gave him a sharp elbow to the ribs.

Coming to with a low groan, Reid's head shot up. He looked around before looking down at Belle. "Are you alright?"

"Peachy-keen jellybean," muttered Belle, before she raised her fingers to the nasty looking cut on his forehead. "Knocked you out too, huh?"

He hissed as her fingers brushed the cut but forced himself not to move his head. "I was watching for you, and didn't notice him behind me." He tried to move his extremities only to find his wrists and ankles were both tied. "Damnit."

"Calm down, Spencer," She said, resting her still throbbing head on his shoulder. "We need to get out of here." She put both hands on his left shoulder. "Can you support my weight?"

Nodding, he watched her use him to push herself to her feet. Her ankles were tied but not well. From where she stood, she could just barely see out the window behind them. They were defiantly in a lawn care shed but she didn't recognize the dark outside. "Any plans?"

"Actually," he said, leaning forward slightly, ignoring the ache in his head. With nimble fingers, despite the rope that tied his wrists, he managed to undo the rope around her ankles. It took him a few minutes but he managed. "Kneel down."

Belle obeyed, letting him undo her hands as well. "Now run," he said, "Get help. Go."

"I'm not gonna just leave you here," she said, sounding as though she though the very idea was crazy.

"Belle," he said, ready to argue further.

"I am not leaving you. End of story, Dr. Reid." Sending him a dark glare, daring him to disagree further, she grabbed his hands. Immediately she began to undo the ropes tying them, which gave way after only about a minute.

She began working on his ankles, when the door behind her opened.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Whipping around, Belle gasped, "Ben?"

Dressed in a black, looking more frightening than she'd ever seen him, was Benjamin Shields, her biology lab partner, orchestra mate, and fellow ensemble choir member. His lip gave an angry twitch as he growled, "You never noticed me. You chose him. You don't even know him. He's gonna leave you as soon as the FBI are done here but you chose him."

"I noticed you," she cried, fear making her eyes tear and her throat constrict. "I did. You were my friend."

"And that's all I ever was!" Belle jumped, cringing as both his irate tone and the effect it had on her pounding head. "But you see me now, don't you Belle? You see me?"

"I see you," she whispered, the tears beginning to trail down her face. "I see you."

From his belt sheath, Benjamin produced a buck knife. The murder weapon of the all the girls. "I loved you."

"You never told me. You never said anything." She whimpered, backing up some, nearly stepping on Reid's legs.

Benjamin stepped forward, the knife loose in his hand, at his side. "I shouldn't have had to tell you, Belle. I was always helpful. We did projects together. I was always there for you, but you didn't love me." He advanced farther. Raising his left hand, his free hand, he brushed her long hair out of her face. "If you have just seen me, for what I am, I wouldn't have had to hurt anybody. I just wanted you so much."

"Ben," her eyes flicked to the knife and back. "Ben, I'm here now. I see you."

"It's too late. If I can't have you," his eyes flashed down the Reid, who remained still on the ground. "No one can." He grabbed for her neck, but missed when Reid used his legs to swipe Belle, who was closer to him, off her feet. She landed hard on his leg.

He cried out before grinding his jaw together. Through his teeth, he hissed, "RUN!"

Benjamin, who hadn't expected Belle to suddenly shrink, turned trying to catch her as she scrambled around his legs towards the door. He caught her easily, given she couldn't crawl as fast as he could run. By her hair, he pulled her up, slamming her into the door. Having dropped his knife, he put her in a choke hold, looking around for a weapon nearby.

On the top shelf, just barely visible, was Reid holster, with his Glock 17 still inside. Grabbing it, Benjamin brought it closer to the struggling Belle, trying to remove the firearm from the holster. Belle, seeing her chance, grabbed the gun, easily removing it. Benjamin, unfamiliar with guns, didn't realize until it was too late that she had the weapon. He dove away from her grabbing the knife. He dropped to his knees beside Reid.

Belle turned, the gun aimed, to find Benjamin holding a knife to Reid' throat. "Drop it or he dies, Isabelle."

* * *

><p>Guns draw, the FBI team, and a crowd of local officers, moved across the grounds. It had taken them about fifteen minutes to realize something was wrong and another five to find that both Reid and Belle were missing. They had spent another fifteen combing the area, it was then they stumbled across the lawn maintenance shed. They were approaching silently, and could hear commotion inside. Someone slammed against the door, a struggle. Swiftly moving feet.<p>

Agents Hotchner and Prentiss were on one side of the door; Morgan on the other. From within they heard, "Drop it or he dies, Isabelle."

Hotch gave the gesture to hold and they listened.

From within, they heard her response. "There's something you don't know about me, Ben." A pause. A single gunshot.

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><p><em>Sorry I'm late guys. Thanks for being understanding. <em>


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

The moment the shot was fired, the team, followed by two other locals, stormed the shed. The sight before them was mildly shocking.

Reid lay against the far wall, with the dead body of Benjamin Shields slumping against his shoulder. A single gunshot wound perfectly to the center Shield's forehead would be the cause of death. Reid was currently trying to move away from the wall, but with his ankles tied it was hard. Belle stood nearest the door, Reid's glock still held in her left hand, which hung loosely at her side.

Under her breath, but loud enough that they could hear, she whispered, "I'm a hell of a shot."

Prentiss gently touched Belle's wrist, indicting she should release the gun, which she did. Seeing the younger woman was shaking, Emily rubbed a hand down her arm. "You did what you had to do."

"You saved Reid's life," Morgan added, kneeling to use his Swiss army knife to cut the ropes on Reid ankles.

Belle turned to the shelf where he'd tossed their belongings. She grabbed her purse, finding her inhaler safely inside. Without further a due, she breathed in deeply.

"An ambulance, is on it's way," one of the locals said.

"That's not necessary," Belle said, looking as Reid. "It is?"

"It's protocol." The team, with Belle, moved out of the shed and away from the body.

A short distance away Prentiss and Hotch took Belle's statement of the occurrences, before meeting back up with Reid and Morgan. Reid was sitting against a tree, his hurting leg, the one she'd landed on, out in front of him.

Belle knelt beside Reid. His eyes were closed and a few strands of his sandy brown hair falling into his face. Gently as she could, she swept them away, causing him to open his eyes.

"I should thank you," he said. "You are a really good shot."

She half smiled. "Yeah, my dad was a big gun buff. He taught me." She glanced down at his leg. "I'm sorry you got hurt."

"It's not broken. Just bruised pretty good," he brushed off her apology.

She looked him in the eye, before leaning forward and kissing his lips. "Thank you," she whispered, when they broke apart a moment later.

Their lips hovered a matter of inches apart. "For what?" His voice was breathless.

"Being there when I remembered I could take care of myself."

"I didn't get to play knight-in-shining armor," he whispered back.

"I'm not the damsel-in-distress kinda girl, anyway, Spencer," She smiled, resting back on her heels again. "Thank you. You let me rescue you."

"You're welcome," he said, as he watched her stand up. She nodded to Hotch and the others before moving towards the Dean, who had arrived on scene a few minutes before.

"My man," Morgan said to Reid, as they both watched Belle talk to the dean about what had happened.

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><p><em>I know it kinda sounds like the end but it's not there just yet...<em>


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine - **_short chapter_

After a quick check over from the doctor, confirming a concussion and some bruises, Dr. Reid was given pain killers, and released into FBI custody.

They were on the flight back to Quantico when Reid finally asked, "Anyone know how Belle is?"

The team chuckled but Emily took mercy and produced a piece of paper. She extended it to him from her seat across from his couch. He opened it slowly.

_Spencer, _

_I only have a mild concussion so don't worry about me [I know you asked because I told Agent Prentiss to only give you this letter if you asked about me]. Again, thank you, and I'm sorry about your leg. I hear it's not broken or anything, for which I'm glad. _

_I don't know if you'll care but I'm leaving California. I'm not sure where I'm going yet but if you want, I'll let you know when I do. For now it's time for a change._

_Psychologists always say that you can't form a real, healthy bond in a short time or in a distressing situation, and I understand that. I know about transference. But I feel something different with you, Spencer. So, even if all we ever are is friends, I want that. _

_So, ramblings aside, I want to say I'll miss you. And I hope to see you again. _

_Contigo Amor, Isabelle Laurent. _

Following was a phone number. Reid reread the note. _Contigo Amor. _English translation: _With love._ He leaned back, resting the note against his chest. Somewhere between his memories of the event, and thoughts of the future, he fell asleep.

* * *

><p>For near a month, Reid had fought the urge to call Belle. She had been a victim in a case. Dating victims was a big no-no. Besides their relationship was based on two days and a near death experience. Nothing could come from that, he reasoned.<p>

The end of a particularly gruesome case, the letter somehow found its way into his hand, as he finished some paperwork. He glanced around see the team all at working on similar paperwork, which they had negated while out of town on the last case.

Of their own accord, his finger dialed the number. It rang. And rang. And rang. Finally Belle's voice filled his ear.

_You've reached Belle. Sorry, I couldn't answer the phone. Leave a message and I'm get back to you. _

A beep followed and Reid struggled for words. "Um, Belle. It's me…Spencer…Reid. Dr. Reid. Um. I guess I was just calling to see how you were…" He hung up, resting the receiver against his forehead.

"What's up, boy genius?" Morgan asked, suddenly appearing against the desk next to Reid.

"Nothing," Reid hung up the phone, straightening the files on his desk. He stood. "I should turn these in."

Excusing himself, Reid headed to drop his files off. He walked slowly, thinking. Why couldn't he stop thinking about Belle? What made her special?

He was back at his desk, picking up his bag, putting his gun on his belt, when JJ appeared. "Spence, there's a call coming through for you. It rang at your desk but you weren't there."

Reid nodded, stepping back to his desk. Picking up his phone, he hit the button, taking the caller off hold. "Reid."

"Geez, I thought I'd missed you," Belle said, a smile in her voice.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

A kid-in-a-candy-store smile spread across Reid's face. "Belle," he said. "I called you."

"I know that, Spencer," she laughed. "That's why I called you back. What are you up to?"

"About to head home actually," he glanced at his watch. It was eight pm.

"Well, I have a surprise for you."

Reid's eyebrow rose. "Really?" His voice was high pitched.

Belle laughed again. "Tell you what, give me your address, and I'll show you."

"My address?" He paused. "You're in town?"

Her smile was in her voice. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Invite me over and _maybe_ I'll tell you."

Reid laughed, but gave her the address.

Belle repeated it before whispering, "I'll see you there in about an hour?"

"An hour," he repeated to the dial tone.

"Hey," JJ called from the doorway of her office. All three agents turned. Morgan had been resting against Emily's desk, waiting on her to finish her paperwork. They had decided to go out on drinks. "We have a new case."

Hotch appeared from his office, heading towards the conference room. "Let's do the briefing so we can go home and get some sleep. Wheels up at first light."

Begrudgingly, they all followed. Hoping to get this over quickly to get back their plans, or at least, to get home for some sleep.

* * *

><p>Near a half hour later the team broke. Stopping at their respective desk and office, they meet in the middle of office. "What are your plans tonight, JJ?" Morgan asked.<p>

"Hot bubble bath with a glass of wine," JJ replied, with a smile.

Hotch was the one who responded. "You sound like every woman I have ever dated."

"So you have good taste," JJ offered, which earned her a look from the others. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

The team laughed and joked their way down to their cars. Reid was ready to head home. He'd been so ready to leave before the briefing but looking over pictures and case files of death families, brutally tortured before being burned alive in their homes, was not his idea of a good way to unwind.

Parking in his usually spot, he looped his messenger bag over his shoulder. Too wound to take the elevator, he jogged the two flights up to his apartment. Across from his apartment door, sitting on the floor, her back against the wall and her legs out straight, sat Isabella Laurent. Next to her sat a purse and a massive black suitcase. Her head was resting on the suitcase and she appeared half-asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Reid moved down the hall quietly, kneeling down to her touch shoulder.

She jolted, her arm sweeping out and sending him falling back onto his butt, hard. Realizing what she had done, she gasped, covering her mouth in shock. "Spencer! I'm sorry."

Laughing, Reid shook his head. "It's okay. I shouldn't have startled you."

"I was just resting my eyes."

"Why are you so tried?"

"I've been awake for quite a long time."

Reid raised an eyebrow, standing up. "How long is a long time?" he asked, pulling her to her feet.

She glanced at her bare wrist, pretending to check a watch, "About nine am yesterday."

"Belle! Why?" He looked concerned. "You haven't been driving, have you?"

"What?" She shook her head. "Only from the airport, here."

"Staying awake for just 17 hours drops performance by the equivalent of a blood alcohol level of .05; Fatigue is estimated to be involved in 1 out of 6 auto accidents." He began ticking the facts off on his fingers. "You've been up for," he paused to check his watch, "37 hours. You should not be behind the wheel."

"You really are full of useless information, aren't you?" She bent down, grabbing her purse. "Can I use your phone book?"

Reid looked confused. "What?"

"I need to find a hotel."

He nodded, finally opening the door to his apartment. Grabbing her suitcase, he walked inside, expecting her to follow, which she did.

"You need to get some sleep," he said, shutting and locking the door. "I have a spare bed. You should stay here; at least tonight. You are in no condition to go anywhere tonight."

Belle nodded, shrugging. "I won't fight you on that." For a moment she seemed to debate something internally. Coming to her decision, she walked over to him. "I meant to do something when I saw you, but I forgot."

He watched her cover the distance between them without moving.

Slowly, with nibble fingers, she removed Reid's holster, setting in carefully on the top of the nearby small bookcase. Continuing with slow but determined movements, she undid his tie, pulling it off painfully slow. He watched her, stunned, when she reached her arms up and around his neck. Without protest he met her in the kiss she was silently demanding.

Not breaking the contact, Belle worked her hands under his sweater. She tugged at it, only breaking the embrace at the last possible moment to pull the pesky piece of clothing off. He was the one to encourage the contact again, pushing her back into the wall behind her. His hands gripped her hips, lifting her effortlessly off the ground. Her arms circled his neck, while her legs coiled round his waist. His arms locked around her, supporting her as he kissed her back as passionately as he could.

* * *

><p><em>So this is the end...at least for now. I had a idea for continuing but the idea died before I could finish so for now, this is the end. <em>


End file.
